One Good Turn
by EGL
Summary: Ships that pass in the night. Set before Red Dragon in Dr Lecter's office
1. Chapter 1

**One Good Turn 1 / 2**

This has been festering on the back burner for about a year.

**Precis : **It is a story about someone who must have existed in one form or another, but is never mentioned in the books. It also examines the notion that people who walk on the wild side, will fetch up in the same harbour from time to time.

Follows book canon. Set before Red Dragon

**Rating: M** I suppose (for mention of certain sexual practices).

ANY comments are welcome – one is never done editing these things.

_Dr. Hannibal Lecter, contained in these posts was created by and is the intellectual property of Thomas Harris. He is used herein without permission, but in the spirit of admiration and respect. No infringement of copyright is intended, and the owner, creators, moderators, members or contributors of this site make no profit whatsoever._

This room is quite plain. The floor is clean – the linoleum is sealed and polished. The tabletop is unmarked. Glassy black formica. The walls look as though they have been painted quite recently. Magnolia gloss. Like a public hospital. No windows but the fluorescent light has a pink hue instead of the usual leukaemic blue and of course there is the obligatory two way mirror.

The man opposite – Officer Petrie, is tidying his papers. The uniformed lady officer – I didn't see her name tag, is sitting stolidly in the corner, watching his back. I can imagine her providing unflappable but unimaginative support in emergencies. Not very quick on her feet.

I have always viewed fleetness of foot, as a necessity, living in a city – avoiding broken paving; puddles; dog mess; drunks.

We are waiting for Officer Petrie's companion. Officer Petrie looks up. Blue eyes with dark lashes, bright, untroubled. He allows me a warm smile.

"Apologies for the delay Miss Reece. Can I get you a coffee?"

"No thank you" I smile in return. My professional daytime smile. The one I reserve for those I don't care to know too well – UPS couriers; the cleaner; the garbage collector.

Officer Petrie is about 32 and clean shaven. He is wearing a good shirt with a crisp collar- van Heusen I think. The suit is not of the same quality, but it sits well over his shoulders. He is the right shape for suits. A neat haircut. Perhaps he used to be in the military? No wedding ring. Well manicured hands. In thrall to his own dexterity. Anxious to be seen to be smooth. I'm sure he eats noodles with chopsticks, carefully, out of a box. No drips down his chin. No smudges on his impeccably knotted tie.

"I have to wait for Officer Berlusconi before we can start" A semi apologetic smile this time. His voice is pitched quite high. He needs to relax his infrahyoid muscles and drop his larynx. He squares up his papers once more

"I quite understand"

The door opens. The tail end of a conversation and laughter in the corridor. Officer Berlusconi backs into the room carrying coffee in a large mug. Overweight but tidy feet. Like a dancer. Every stitch on his shiny suit, doing its duty. He places his mug carefully on the table and takes his jacket off and drapes it over the back of the chair. There are no sweat stains on his shirt but I can smell him. He is breathing quite heavily through his nose. Big lips. Voracious

Officer Petrie shifts a little to the right to give his partner some more space at the table. I see his nostrils flare. Fastidious. I like that in a man.

"OK. We ready to roll Nathan?" This to Officer Petrie. Officer Berlusconi takes a long slurp of his coffee. Officer Petrie's eyelashes flutter. He presses the switch on the tape machine.

"This is Officer Berlusconi and Officer Petrie interviewing Miss Deborah Reece?" – Officer Berlusconi looks at me finally to confirm that I am there "at the Baltimore Police Department Headquarters on Monday 31st March 1975 at" he consults a thick watch part buried in the flesh of his wrist "18.00 hours. Witnessed by …. "

"Patrolwoman Sommers" murmurs Officer Petrie

"Patrolwoman Sommers. You been read your rights Miss Reece?"

"Yes. Officer Petrie has covered the formalities"

"Formalities" Officer Berlusconi grunts while slurping some more coffee "Yeeaahh"

"You are Miss Deborah Reece date of birth 25 March 1950 resident at 1095 Barrymore Street?"

"That is correct"

"Kind of a fancy address for a Doctor's receptionist"

"I inherited the property from my parents" Officer Berlusconi's eyes contract to little piggy slits. Officer Petrie stares at me unblinkingly.

"How long have you been in the employment of Dr Lecter?"

"2 years"

_The tone in Officer Berlusconi's voice implied that it would be a miracle if I or any of my kind were ever offered a decent job in this city._

"Through an advertisement in the Baltimore Chronicle and Sentinel. I was interviewed. I guess there were other candidates. I was offered the position 3 days later. I accepted. The salary was good. There was a health insurance package, which you wouldn't normally expect with that sort of position. It was similar to work that I had done before. Dr. Lecter was a very correct and fair employer"

"What did you do for Dr Lecter?" There was bored contempt in the way Officer Berlusconi voiced this question. I felt a twinge of sympathy for any admin clerk who had to deal with him.

"I looked after the patients when they came to his office. I arranged all the appointments. I dealt with all the billing. I dealt with all the professional correspondence – referral letters, the replies, the reports and of course the papers that he wrote. I liased with the editors of the journals to which he submitted papers, the referring doctors, hospitals, courts and so on, dealt with all the arrangements when he was lecturing and kept his diary."

The two officers looked up. "You kept his diary?"

"His professional diary. I had nothing to do with his social diary, his public service or benefit work. He organised all that himself. He would update me every Monday with times and dates he wouldn't be available in the office"

Officer Petrie's lips compressed.

"Dr Lecter regularly saw patients on Sundays?"

_A skipped pulse_

"About 2 weekends every month. The patients scheduled were usually those in maintenance therapy, rather than new patients, starting out, and of course he never saw women patients on a Sunday, as I don't work in the office on that day. . Is … is Officer Graham OK?"

Officer Petrie's masseter muscles contracted. They made fine ridges over his cheeks. "He is recovering. He lost a lot of blood"

_I could feel the ice forming at the base of my diaphragm. Where Papa used to hit me_

"Had you seen Officer Graham with Dr Lecter before?" Officer Petrie interrogated as precisely as he dressed.

"Yes on two occasions – I can't remember exactly when, I would have to check the schedule."

"Did Dr Lecter make any remark to you about Officer Graham's visits?"

"No more than mentioning that he was coming in and that as Officer Graham was generally a busy man, he shouldn't be kept waiting

"Did Dr Lecter tell you that he was expecting Officer Graham on Sunday?

"No"

Officer Berlusconi now. "So how d'ya feel when you were told what Dr Lecter had done?

"It was a complete shock. I mean … he's a doctor. He … he never came across as someone who would physically harm anyone. He was always very courteous, thoughtful. His demeanour was always very even, calm and correct"

_Like a bottomless lake_

"Did you notice any change in his …. demeanour over the last 4 weeks or so?" Officer Berlusconi trying to curl his lip. It made him look like a snuffling pig. You need thin, impeccably chiselled white lips to sneer convincingly. Someone really should show him a mirror.

"No." A pause "Nothing out of the ordinary"

_Not strictly true. Dr Lecter had a harpsichord in his office, which he would play sometimes during his lunch break, and at the end of the day. He had been practicing Handel's Suite No 7. From what I could hear, he was having some trouble with the Passacaglia, which was unusual. He was generally, a very easy, confident and fluent player. I would dawdle sometimes in the evenings, in the outer office. I enjoyed listening. Anyway I think he was getting frustrated with this particular piece. _

_Also his dictation on the tapes had gone a little awry. He was always a very accurate and clear dictator – no pauses or breaks but lately he had started stopping in the middle of sentences, as if his attention was wandering. _

_And then there was the problem with the dry cleaning. A young guy came to deliver his dark grey Barathea suit on Wednesday. He checked it in the outer office and then said very icily 'This won't do' and showed him a crease in the lining of the jacket. ' Did you think I wouldn't notice? Do you think I am a complete plebeian? Take it back' and he just let the suit drop to the floor and went back into his office. I had never seen him being directly uncivil to anyone – not even with some of our more demanding patients. So …_

"No change in his routine; the way he dressed; the way he treated you or his patients?"

"No. Nothing that I can remember"

"Well if you do recall anything be sure to let us know, won't you Miss Reece" Officer Berlusconi sat back in his chair, his shirt straining at the buttons over his belly. He picked up his mug of coffee.

"Of course"

Officer Petrie now. "We will be going over Dr Lecter's diary with you in some detail, once we have a court order, allowing us to go through his records"

"I understand"

"Where were you yesterday?"

Choir practice and then the Sunday service at the University Baptist Church and then there was a pot luck supper in the evening.

"You are a practicing Christian?" Officer Petrie cocked his head in enquiry.

"Yes. I was brought up a Baptist"

"What do you do in the evenings the rest of the week?" Officer Berlusconi licked his lips

"My singing takes up 2 evenings a week and half of Sunday. I sing alto in the University Baptist Church choir and in the Handel choir. I have a large house to look after. I have friends"

_And clients. I have 6 regular clients who have been with me for up to 2 years. Madame is a meticulous businesswoman. She has a talent for matching. A God given gift. I specialise. I have a well stocked hope chest. 4 different sorts of whip; 2 canes – one plane the other knotted; various chain arrangements and collars, nipple clamps cock rings and so on; cuffs of course and various lengths of rope, chord, rubber tourniquets, garrottes other bits and bobs oh and plenty of ceran wrap. I have one client who likes to be very thoroughly swaddled, like an Egyptian mummy. _

_My wardrobe is esoteric – everything from Vivienne Westwood to minimalist black leather. My heels are Manolo Blahniks. I don't believe in stinting on the accessories and I feel duty bound to offer a wide range of choices. And yes, I admit it, I feel much sexier in expensive outfits._

"We had a guy in here last week said he lived next to a black lady who was a Baptist with a great voice – sang in the shower in the mornings. Do you sing in the shower in the mornings Miss Reece?" Officer Berlusconi licked his lips again.

_Could it be – Mr Jope next door? Why would he be called in by the Police?_

"Sometimes"

"This guy gave an address next door to your house – you know him? Mr Hastings Jope?"

"He also let fall that you have some regular male visitors Miss Reece day and night"

"Really?"

"Yes… reeeaaallly. Turns out Mr Jope being a concerned and observant citizen has been keeping a diary"

"He is retired. I guess he has nothing better to do with his time"

"Well he also has an upstanding citizens concerns regarding what may be inappropriate activity going on in a next door property"

"Inappropriate activity? Have you ever heard the expression 'playing the field' Officer Berlusconi?"

_A direct stare was what was needed here. Madame got me to practice this over and over, when I first joined her agency. You have to be sure of your ground._

Officer Berlusconi grimaced. Officer Petrie gave me another unblinking look. I smiled at them both.

"Dangerous game Miss Reece. Do they all know they are only one of a stable?"

"How I conduct my affairs is my own business Officer"

"Not if the neighbours start to complain"

"Have they complained?"

No reply

"How do you square this with your Pastor Miss Reece – not exactly Christian behaviour, by the book "

"Our Lord exhorted us to go forth and multiply. The Psalms, if you have ever read them, are full of material that might even make you cross your legs Officer Berlusconi. I see no contradiction between my faith and my private life."

Officer Petrie tapped his pen on his neat pile of papers and looked at the table top. Officer Berlusconi half closed his eyes – trying to look menacing I suppose.

"We'll be watching you Miss Reece"

"Then I will look forward to tweaking my net curtains and admiring your manly form packed into the car across the street Officer Berlusconi" I think the irony was lost on him. However, Officer Petrie got the joke – he bit on his pen very hard.

Officer Petrie straightened up his papers again and coughed discreetly behind his smooth hand.

"Dr Lecter ever visit you at your home Miss Reece – delivering dictation tapes, to let you know about changes in his schedule?"

"No"

_Madame always recommended short answers with no embellishments –' don't give them a handle they can tug on' she used to say_

"There is a wine storage cabinet in the office. Were you responsible for that?"

Aaah.. The little secretary. Looking after the Doctor's every need.

"Certainly not. Dr Lecter kept that for his own use and for when he had the occasional committee meeting at his office or when he was entertaining potential new sponsors for the Symphony or the American Visionary Art Museum or one of his hospital programmes. I kept tea, coffee, some herbal teas for our more health conscious patients, in the outer office"

"Dr Lecter the great philanthropist" Officer Berlusconi tried to sneer again.

"Did you ever accompany Dr Lecter to any social gatherings?"

_A flame of anger. How dare they suggest … Easy_

"Certainly not. I was his employee. Our relationship was entirely professional"

_Well. Not entirely. He did perform a service for me once. Some time ago…_


	2. Chapter 2

**One Good Turn 2 / 2**

_One of my clients had been having a bad time at work. Matters got out of hand at one of his regular appointments with me. I pride myself on the control I can exert and ability to gauge, within a few pulses, what a client needs – the manner and degree of chastisement they want at any particular time. On this one occasion he asked me if he could lick some juices off my fingers. I was feeling sorry for him and he bit into three of my fingers and then attacked as my Papa had, with his fists, to my stomach. He tried to stamp on me. Fortunately my heels were strapped around my ankles. I kicked the shit out of him as my Pa had done to me. _

_He was a mess when he left._

_Dr Lecter asked me about my bandaged fingers in the morning and insisted on redressing them. He had very fine hands. I was moving awkwardly because of the bruising. I was not myself. Nothing like this had happened to me before and at first I couldn't figure out what had triggered the attack. _

_Dr Lecter asked me to stay a little longer at the end of the day on some pretext or other. We sat in his office and he just asked me what had happened, as if I had lost my purse. I simply unburdened myself. I guess part of the problem was I hadn't had a vacation for 18 months and I hadn't seen or talked to Madame for about 6 months. Although I have worked on my own for a while it's still good to share, experiences, observations, information about clients with someone you trust and who knows the business._

_He was a good listener. In my profession, you have to be a good listener, in every sense of the word, if you are to survive and do well, so I know the real McCoy when I see it. We talked a little about my Daddy and what he had done to me. I cried some. He asked me what I wanted. I said revenge although that's impossible when someone is dead and anyway it's not a Christian impulse. _

_"It depends upon which God you rely" was his reply at the time. "And this man who attacked you?" _

_I said that I felt betrayed and angry and afraid. My services are based on mutual trust – a contract if you will, which may evolve over time but has some basic precepts set in stone – who is the boss, the conductor of the proceedings. I was also frightened as to what this man would do next and frightened that I had lost my touch, that I had missed something. I was concerned that I had lost control – that I was turning into my Daddy._

_"Why shouldn't you feel angry Deborah? You were the one that was beaten. Why shouldn't you exact some payment? Your religion preaches that vengeance falls to the Lord – human beings shouldn't endanger their souls by indulging in direct retribution shouldn't presume that they can judge. Remember, all organisations have a vested interest in keeping their flocks submissive. Chaos appals them. They don't have the equipment to survive in a Dionysian world. They don't understand that an individual can be an agent of the Lord's justice just as effectively as a sanctimonious and imperfect human institution. Everyone is open to divine guidance Deborah, isn't that one of the fundamental differences between the Catholic and Protestant views of the world?"_

_"You should trust your impulses Deborah. Women like you have infallible intuition."_

_He cocked his head to one side and then asked "And did it feel good when you let loose?"_

_I had to reply 'Yes'._

_"Then you are concerned that you are no better than your Father? How so? This man attacked you. You responded appropriately given your rather vulnerable situation. Usual social norms don't apply here. Besides your normal work involves exquisite control, I would imagine. A complete antithesis to your Daddy."_

_We spent about half an hour dissecting the encounter and I identified the mistake I had made – acquiescing to his particular request – an inappropriate shift of power in that situation. It's a question of concentration – not allowing the persona to slip, playing the script exactly. Clients expect you to act a certain way. If you don't they can feel let down or disappointed or angry or confused_

_"You shouldn't confuse empathy with pity Deborah. Pity is the angel with the drooping eyes and accusing fingers over the altar – saccharine and superiority. Nature doesn't recognise pity and aren't we all children of nature? I can help you if you wish to exact suitable recompense from this man, to make yourself safe."_

_He didn't look at me when he said this - just crossed one impeccably creased trouser leg over the other and swept the back of his hand down the grey cashmere crease. Then he calmly folded his hands together, and looked up._

_My Daddy had warned me about such men – his eyes glowed and spun like molten lava. I know the Gates of Hell when I see them. I thanked him but said I felt that I could deal with this myself, now, having talked to him. He graced me with an almost innocent smile. _

_"I'm sure you can Deborah"_

_That was it. Our one and only encounter outside of work. I thought about what he said. Distance is everything in my business. Perspective. From the high ground._

_Dr Lecter did ask for Madame's telephone number – he was writing a paper at the time on paraphilia related disorders and subjugation schema so it was kind of fortuitous. Madame told me later that they had just met a couple of times – he wanted some anecdotal, background information. He was very good at adding apposite examples to his papers._

_The client never called again. Madame told me that he had left the East coast. She booked someone else to take his place._

_I thought Dr Lecter might dig and delve some more about my family but he didn't. Dr Lecter was a great respecter of personal space._

There was a change of temperature in the room. Officer Petrie leaned forward

"Do you remember a patient of Dr Lecter's a Mr Benjamin Raspail?"

_Sure I remember him. Slimy, like an overdressed scallop. A flute player in the Boston Philharmonic in love with his own embellishments and an over inflated idea of his own importance. He used to come early for his appointments and make a great song and dance afterwards with his diary (pale calf, with his initials embossed in gold) trying to find a time for his next session with Dr Lecter in between all his other "commitments". He would run his fingers over the furniture and the shelving in the waiting room – "I enjoy the ambience here Deborah" he would say "Oh this wasn't here last time – how exquisite – it's Italian isn't it?" _

_"Etruscan. Dr Lecter purchased it at an auction last week. It is quite delicate Mr Raspail" _

_"Oh of course – see I'm putting it back in exactly the same spot - I wouldn't want to get you into any sort of trouble with the good Doctor." He would giggle " Well I must love you and leave you my delectable Deborah. Be sure to call and remind me of my appointment – I simply won't remember otherwise – the rehearsal schedule over the next 10 days is impossible - you have no idea " and he would roll his eyes, toss his pink cashmere scarf over his shoulder and sweep out like some fifth rate impresario. Being charitable, he was clearly a seriously inadequate musician._

"Yes I do. "

"Did Dr Lecter treat Mr Raspail in any way differently from his other patients?"

"Certainly not within my hearing"

_Not strictly true. He always bestowed a special smile towards Mr Benjamin Raspail's back as he left_

"Do you remember Mr Raspail's last appointment with Dr Lecter it was on Friday 21st March?"

"May I check my diary – it may help me to remember?"

"Please, go right ahead" This was Officer Petrie at his most courteous. This one I should watch. He is perceptive.

I didn't need to check, but I did anyway.

"Dr Lecter allowed me to leave early that day. I had to deliver an urgent package direct to UPS"

"Why not get them to collect?"

"Dr Lecter asked me specifically to deliver it by hand. We had had problems in the past with them collecting and delivering on time"

"What time did you leave?"

"About 3.30"

"So about half an hour after Mr Raspail's scheduled appointment time with Dr Lecter"

"Yes"

"Can anyone verify you leaving at that time?"

"Yes the doorman – he keeps a log"

Officer Berlusconi heaved himself out of his chair and came to stand behind my right shoulder. He bent down and breathed coffee fumes across my face.

"Did you see or hear anything out of the ordinary occurring in Dr Lecter's office during that half hour?" I kept straight backed in my chair and looked directly at Officer Petrie

"No. The door is heavy and well fitting for a reason – Dr Lecter's consultations are … were confidential"

Hrrumph. Officer Berlusconi snorted. I felt the spray hit the back of my neck.

"You didn't go into the room while Mr Raspail was there?"

_Think carefully now Deborah._

"Yes. Mr Raspail asked for some fruit tea. I went into Dr Lecter's office and gave it to him before the consultation got started."

"Did you notice anything unusual when you went into the office?" - this with Officer Berlusconi leaning right in to my face. He had some lunch around his teeth.

"No"

"Was that unusual – Dr Lecter letting you go early?"

"Not so unusual – I quite often ran errands for him on a Friday"

Officer Berlusconi peered at the two-way mirror.

"I need a leak. Stop the tape will ya Nathan" He left the room. As Officer Petrie murmured the details of the pause in the proceedings into the tape recorder I remembered

_Mr Raspail had splashed on way too much Halston aftershave. I had to open the window when he went in to Dr Lecter's office to air out the waiting area. _

_"Aaaah my dear Hannibal" he said "I have the most fabulous gossip to lavish upon you regarding our esteemed, guest conductor with the stiff dick and starched shirt front. Deborah, would you be an absolute sweetie and fix me a camomile tea? so very, very kind" and then he swept into Dr Lecter's office, as if he was a tin pot diva. _

_I tapped on the door a couple of minutes later with the tea. Benjamin Raspail was leaning over the desk towards Dr Lecter with his tongue hanging out – an extraordinary pose I thought, even for him. Dr Lecter was pouring himself some water into a glass, ignoring Mr Raspail, as far as I could see. Mr Raspail sprang back from the desk as soon as I appeared. I put the tea down and left. _

_About half an hour later Dr Lecter came out of the room with an addressed envelope and asked me to go to the UPS Office straight away – he had forgotten to send this report the previous day and it was urgent. It was addressed to one of the district courts in Virginia. He told me not to bother to come back – he would close everything down. So I left for the day. _

_As Dr Lecter shut the door I caught a glimpse of Mr Raspail on the couch. He had the stiletto letter opener embedded in his chest. It didn't come as a surprise._

_So why not tell them?_

_A couple of reasons I guess._

_I believe Dr Lecter sent me to UPS so that I would have a kind of alibi – even if I had been present at the murder and it had happened as soon as Mr Raspail had arrived, it would have taken two of us longer than half an hour to clear up the mess. So he was trying to make sure that I wouldn't be implicated, if he were found out. Plain good southern manners._

_And the second reason? Well that's pretty plain too – good old-fashioned fear._

Officer Berlusconi returned.

"Thank you Miss Reece. We appreciate your co-operation. I need to have you go to our forensic people now so that they can take prints. Don't leave Baltimore – we'll need to talk to you again"

He looked bad tempered and disappointed. I felt a small triumph, but reined it in. Officer Petrie was watching.

They didn't call me in again – I think they had their hands full and I heard that a large number of Dr Lecter's patients and their relatives, refused to release their medical records to the police, so I didn't even have to go through the diaries with them. I never saw Officer Berlusconi outside in his car nor anyone from Vice.

**AFTERWARDS**

In September, after Dr Lecter had been committed an envelope containing $50,000 arrived for me via a remailing service with a letter from Dr Lecter

_My dear Deborah_

_I must apologise unreservedly for the manner in which your employment was terminated so abruptly which, I am sure must have caused you considerable inconvenience._

_It has been a very great pleasure working with you over the last 2 years. I'm only sorry that we didn't have more time to explore and expand on your unique experiences._

_I value discretion very highly and you clearly have this in abundance and intelligence enough to know when to use it. This is one of your finest qualities. It engenders great trust._

_You could leverage this skill in order to wield much power, if you so desired._

_There are many flavours of revenge, some much sweeter than others. I would strongly recommend that you take steps to broaden your palate. You are wasting your evident talents in the world of finely tuned physical discomfort and cheap ceran wrap._

_May I also suggest that you take up jazz? I think it would appeal to your natural anarchic instincts. Bach, Handel and hymns are fine for instilling discipline but now and then we need to let loose for the good of our souls._

_May I wish you Bon Voyage. I trust the enclosed will go some way to launching you on your new career._

_Kind regards_

_Hannibal Lecter MD_

When I read the letter I was surprised – he never struck me as a believer in souls good or bad.

I sit now in a Congressman's office exercising tact and discretion and dispensing carefully measured phrases in the right places. My knowledge of the unspoken sides of human behaviour is invaluable. I sing with a jazz quartet a couple of times per week in a hazy basement. Dr Lecter was right of course – the club and the company appeal to my edgy side – the side my Daddy would have consigned to the devil.

Looking back, I think I had been aware, every time Dr Lecter had swept the Augean stables clean. He would come in the day after refreshed. As if he had had great sex the night before with an invigorating cold shower in the morning. My Father had been the same way after inflicting pain of one sort or another. Pleased with himself and the world at large. The family would praise the Lord when he was in that mood.

I haven't corresponded with Dr Lecter since his committal. As a connoisseur of secrets I'm sure he understands. If he ever entered the free world once more I wouldn't have a great problem offering him succour, temporarily. The Lord would approve, I am sure

After all, one good turn deserves another.


End file.
